


Running through my heart

by j_gabrielle



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, No Dialogue, Pining, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 18:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21058745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: He wants to bury himself in this man. Wants all the wild things he has taught himself not to yearn for, for they hurt. Needs him like air, even if he isn't sure he is breathing it right.





	Running through my heart

**Author's Note:**

> I need sleep. Any typos are mine and my sausage fingers typing this out on my mobile.

The clock face reads two in the morning on the dot. Morse watches the hands, traces each movement, each tick tick tick as it makes a mechanical rotation, and for one brief irrational moment, wonders if he too were a hand on a clock face; marely making a preplanned orbit with no thought or care for the whys or hows.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips. The hours old taste of smoke and ale is filmlike and he finds that when he turns to greet the not so empty space next to him in bed, he has to fight the sudden urgency to reach out and pull himself closer.

It is ridiculous. He's done fine before when it was just him in a lonely bed. It's foolish to feel such a need, a gravity point that connects him back to earth. Morse feels his heart clench in want and swallows back the burn that rises in him. 

He wants to bury himself in this man. Wants all the wild things he has taught himself not to yearn for, for they hurt. Needs him like air, even if he isn't sure he is breathing it right. 

In the end, Thursday gives a soft sleepy hum and decides for him.

Warm hands - beloved hands who have shown him the spectrum of gentleness and violence, guiding him in their waking hours and their nights - curl around a naked shoulder, extension coming to an arm holding him as he is folded against the solid strength of his lover's body.

The clock face reads ten past two and its hands dances on. Morse closes his eyes, winding his hands to bed warmed skin, and tucks his face to the hollow of Thursday's throat. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have never, will never, allow any reposting or translations of my works without my permission. All of my works will and shall only be hosted on my personal accounts on AO3 (j_gabrielle), Dreamwidth (j_gabrielle) and Tumblr (randomingoftherandomness, hardheartshere).
> 
> For those who say that I never said anything, it is clearly stated on my AO3 profile bio.
> 
> I do not have a Twitter account.
> 
> I do not have a Wattpad account.
> 
> **Please Do Not Repost My Fics**


End file.
